


Navy and Azure (White like Black)

by Flyingbirdietimmy



Series: A Spectrum of Colours [2]
Category: Batman - Fandom, Red Robin - Fandom
Genre: Depression, Family, Loneliness, abondonment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 20:29:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7985179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flyingbirdietimmy/pseuds/Flyingbirdietimmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim had parents. Robin's shouldn't have parents. But then again... Tim didn't really have parents... He didn't see them more than he saw them. It was easy really... Or at least that's what he tells himself to keep his past at bay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Navy and Azure (White like Black)

There were only so many times Tim could count the ceiling tiles before a suffocating boredom set in. There was simply nothing left to do. He had even alternated the way he counted them, using groups of twos or fives. He counted rows and columns and used his multiplication skills, and exponents... He made complicated equations with his findings, long ago having figured out there were exactly 5,023 ceiling tiles around the house. It wasn't about the end result though... Or the first time would have been enough. It was about how he came across his answer. 

The house was dead quiet, save for the low him of the refrigerator and furnace. He knew some people, typically from overheating others in school, disliked the eerie silence. But he was well acquainted with it. As home he hadn't seen anyone for a week. School was the only time, and he was rather quiet there. School was too crowded. One or two people was comfortable. Hundreds was too many. It was always too loud. There was always noise, even when they were supposed to be quietly writing a test. The squeaking of a shoe or the coughing of a peer was entirely irksome, and he would have liked nothing more than to home-school... Except he doubted even he could take that much solitude. 

Tim stomach growled, reminding him that he skipped lunch. It wasn't that he hadn't wanted food... But his money for groceries was dwindling, and though his parents were due back today, he knew better than to count on it. Last time his parents had returned a week later than they originally stated. His money in his account had run out two days before that, and they had forgotten to refill it. Contacting them proved futile. Needless to say, he had been as close to starving as a privileged rich child could get, and he was in no hurry to get that hungry again. So every once in awhile he skipped a meal so as to stretch his funds. Another measure he had taken was saving anything he got in a separate account in case the his food one ran out again. It was also ideal for emergencies and extra supplies he happened to need. Yes, he learned quickly. Once was all it took for him to shape up and take charge of his finances. And no one even had an inkling of his circumstances. Nor did he want them too. That's why he refrained from inviting anyone over. (That and he wasn't a huge fan of socializing, he didn't have any real friends, they were simply acquaintances.) Tim truly longed for company. He understood that families were supposed to do things together and spend time. They were supposed to be loving and do anything for each other. But sometimes he felt he barely knew them. He wondered if his was a normal family. Curiosity nudged him towards his computer where he googled 'define family'. The first thing that came up was (obviously) the definition.

fam·i·ly ˈfam(ə)lē/ -noun 

1\. a group consisting of parents and children living together in a household.

2\. all the descendants of a common ancestor. 

Honestly he wasn't sure if he fit into the first definition. He lived in the house. His parents were often gone.

~~~  
Tim bit his lip so hard he drew blood. His black cursor was blinking on the page of a blank document. He desperately wanted to type, wanted to forget and just immerse himself into the task at hand. That wasn't his life anymore. He had a real family. People who cared about him. Brothers who made sure to bug him frequently. But he couldn't shake the heaviness that weighed on his heart. ~~~ 

"Mom! Dad!" Tim burst through the door, taking the stars two by two, unconcerned with the flecks of dirt coming off of them. "I placed first in the science fair!" He announced proudly, searching the rooms to see where they were at. The door to the master bedroom was ajar. Tim hurried through, displaying his medal to an audience that wasn't there. A note sat on the bed, and Tim curiously examined it. Tim, We decided to leave a little earlier so as to get a head start on the others... Cake in the fridge. Love, Mom Instantly all his excitement vanished as though he were a deflating balloon. He dropped the medal on the floor and sat on the edge of their bed, the mattress squeaking in response. He stared at the floor for s moment before rereading the note, double checking that it wasn't just an awful fantasy. With a sudden spark of anger he tore it up and dropped it on the floor, stalking out of the bedroom and slamming his door. They couldn't hear it and scold him about it... But it did make him feel a little better. 

~~~ 

Of all the Robins, Tim felt he had the easiest childhood. Looking at the other's origins, consisting of loving parents falling to their death's right before one's eyes, one being raised on the streets by an alcoholic and drug user, not to mention sold out and murdered by their biological parent, and one raised by the league of assassins, his seemed mild. He consoled himself with this knowledge frequently. It held at bay other emotions that were totally irrational. Like loneliness... Tim ran a hand through his hair and sighed, pushing back from his desk. Silently he rose and crept down to the living room, the sounds of a great battle waging. A pillow flew across the room and struck Damian in the head, who in turn responded by letting out a battle cry and charging towards the source. Tim wanted to join, but something held him back. (Fear of rejection?) He simply stood, peering around the corner, hidden from view. After a few moments he quietly returned to his room and engaged himself in another task. 

~~~

"Father?" Tim wrung his hands, avoiding eye contact.  
Distractedly his father responded with a hum of acknowledgement.  
"You're going to Beijing for two months... and I was wondering if i might accompany you this time?"  
His father turned his full attention to Tim, raising an eyebrow. "You know you can't come with us?"  
'I know, but why? I don't want to be left alone again! I want to travel with you!' He silently screamed. "Yeah, okay..." He sighed and returned to his room.

~~~

"Tiiiiiiiiiiim! Timmy! Timmers!"  
The groggy boy lifted his head, the impression of boxes left on his cheek as a result of falling asleep on his keyboard. "What?" He croaked.  
"We haven't seen you for like... 72 hours. That's too long!"  
Tim rolled his eyes, half glad his older brother couldn't catch the gesture. "I really don't see the problem with that."  
"Then you have a problem! And you should definitely open this door."  
"I'm busy, Dick."  
Dick huffed and Tim could hear him impatiently tapping his foot outside the door. He waited for approximately 5 minutes, calling Tim out before he finally left. Not that he couldn't have easily broken in. He was a former Robin. He had chosen to give Tim privacy. Unless maybe... He didn't care enough to begin with....

 

~~~

Tim's life was like a giant woollen blanket. Or scarf. Something that displayed complicated patterns, that took time and effort to construct and make beautiful. Something that could be unraveled by pulling on a single thread, destroying all the hard work, and the very thread used to construct becomes all bumpy and worn, though it becomes concealed in the rebuilding phase, it will never be pristine and flawless. And of course... The more unraveled he became, the more obvious it was becoming. 

~ ~(',')~ ~

Dick's eyes weren't hollow. They weren't cold either. Or hard. Dick's eyes were a brilliant blue that scintillated with that mischief and joy when he was distracting Tim from a case. Or they were filled with warmth and love as Tim could recall from looking into those soft, understanding eyes when he was sharing his strifes with his brother. But in this moment, with the white lenses of the Bat cowl concealing, and perhaps even seizing his humanity as it the cowl tended to do, Tim could not see anything else. 

"You're fired." The words echoed through the cave. Bats squeaked their protest and gave their wings a flutter as they switched stalagmites above head. The demon spawn hovered in the shadows, wearing the suit that belonged to Tim and safely behind Dick. 

Tim was glad he wore the mask. It concealed the tears that stung his eyes. He didn't understand how Dick could do this to him. They were /brothers/! Or had that ended when Bruce supposed 'died'? Not that anyone believed Tim when he said Bruce was still alive. "But-" he began in a quavering voice. 

"Just go!" Dick interrupted, pointing to the exit. "Your services are no longer needed."

Tim's breath hitched in his throat and he stumbled towards the exit in a surreal state, unable to feel his legs or anything else for that matter. His body was moving of its own volition, and he thanks whatever god may have been watching over him for that, for he was ready to collapse on the ground and sob, beg for his job back, or just shrivel up and die as his passion had been stripped away from him in a very unceremonious manner. 

And just when he thought things couldn't get any worse, the moment he stepped out of the cave he heard footsteps charging towards him. "Timothy!" The digitalized voice roared. He shoved his current issues aside to deal with later. His instincts took the wheel and soon his feet were moving in a blur of motion. The footsteps followed, speeding up when he did and gaining fast. The someone caught him by his cape, which detached due to his careful planning, but it still caused him to stumble and trip. A knife slammed into the shingle beside him, and he rolled onto his back to face his pursuer. 

"H-hood!" He squeaked in a feeble voice, scars from their previous matches throbbing in painful memory. "P-please don't h-hurt me!"

And the older boy threw his red hood aside, the domino mask still hiding his eyes, but he wore a maniacal grin that matched that of his killer. Hood pressed the cold barrel of his gun to Tim's temple. "It's over this time, /Replacement/!" He let out a bubble of hysterical laughter. 

Tim whimpered and closed his eyes, embracing his inevitable demise. "Goodbye..." He whispered. 

And then he woke up, clutching tight fistfuls of his tangled sheets to his pounding heart. 

 

~~~

It had been a series of non-stop nightmares every night he slept. Was it really any wonder he had already gone 72 hours without a wink? Unfortunately he had forgotten to refill his coffee mug in his sleep deprived state, and had ended up dozing off, which he was surely regretting now. 

Dawn had arrived and unfortunately everyone had chosen this morning to be up and about early. (Though in Damian and Alfred's defence they normally woke up early) Tim crept down to the kitchen, avoiding eye contact, or even so much as looking, at the other people in the room. He slunk over to the coffee machine, clinging to his mug with shaky hands and a death grip. He accidentally peeked at Dick, and all he could see was the cold and callous expression he had worn in his nightmare, for Tim could not separate his reality from his nightmares this day. (Or lately) Damian was a shadow, doing his usual lurking, but today he seemed extra blood thirsty. Jason, (/perfect/ day for him to come over for breakfast) appeared savage and cruel. Bruce looked like a zombie. Tim trained his eyes on the coffee pot, a violent tremor running through his body making him grasp the counter for support. Dick approached him from behind and set a hand in his shoulder. Tim shrieked and flinched away, his hands raised to protect his ace, mug shattering on the ground. Dick's face read 'perplexed', and he shared a worried glance with the rest of the family before stepping back and raising his hands in surrender. "Tim-"

Tim face flushed red with embarrassment. He dropped to his knees to avoid looking at him and began cleaning the ceramic shards up. "No. Dick, don't apologize. I was up too late watching horror movies." He didn't even blink as he lied. (When had it become so easy to lie to Dick?) "And I'm overtired..." As least that wasn't a lie. He lingered just long enough to swipe his coffee when it finished, and he immediately retreated to his too, a new mug in hand and gratitude that no one had asked any questions. 

 

~~~

 

He hadn't given any notice. It had just happened one day that Tim had packed up and left. He didn't say where he went. He just left a line of trackers on the barren bed. Holes from tacks and marks from tape on the walls had been quickly patched up. The message was clear. Tim Drake had no intention of coming back any time soon.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to comment your thoughts, I love feedback and it inspires me to write ;3


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